


Two Governors are Better than One

by TheCreatorOfTales



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: A few shitty people get knocked down a peg or two, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Joan Ferguson, BAMF Vera Bennett, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Joan has someone who just gets her, Loosely follows the storyline, Season 2, Swearing, Two Governors are better than one, Vera is a very good fucking friend and i will die on this hill, Violence, being badass and taking no shit, but will divert around some things, slow burn?, some smut eventually, there's badass women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: Governor Jones arrives at Wentworth to watch the prison in action.Consider it an international work exchange, if you will.The inmates and officers of Wentworth aren't going to know what hit them.
Relationships: Joan Ferguson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. A Friend Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what? It's another one from my WIP folder! Honestly, i need some more ideas to bite onto for some one-shots! Help me out?

She was on time, perhaps even a little early.

She stood in the main reception of Wentworth Prison, clad in a black pinstripe suit, consisting of tight fitting cigarette trousers, highlighting her waist and a matching blazer. Underneath she wore a simple black v-neck tshirt, tucked into the trousers. She wore suede black heels with a tapered heel, which would not impede on her balance should she need to run or sprint to help anyone if needed. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a bun, high on the back of her head, however on the front, there was a curled coif reminiscent of an old Hollywood starlet. Silver sparkly studs in her ears completed the look, along with a large clear wallet, which held a notebook, a pen, her mobile, car keys and her purse.

She was impatient as she checked her watch. Nobody was waiting at the reception desk, as they ought to be considering that through two sets of doors was the entry to the prison. Of course, a person wouldn’t get very far without a key card of some kind, however, the fact that they would be able to get that far in before being stopped showed an unimaginable amount of either stupidity, or lack of foresight. She shoved her right hand into her trouser pocket.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” It was a man that rushed through the door behind the reception desk, shirt wrinkled and not tucked in, tie not knotted properly and his name tag missing. She noted it in her head to bring up with Governor Ferguson. “Had a bit of an issue back there, how can I help?”

She looked at him, green eyes tracking over his appearance and the messy desk. “Governor Jones to see Miss Ferguson, please.”

“Wow, that’s quite an accent, there, Miss Jones.” He smiled nervously at her, which she didn’t return. He noticed that she had a dusting of freckles over her pale nose, and that she wore minimal makeup. Her eyebrows were filled in, and she had black eyeliner and red lipstick. She looked intimidating, all in all.

“British, I know.” She responded to his ridiculous statement. Of course her accent would stand out, there was no need to point it out. Although, she did mentally try to grapple back her temper, tardiness always caused it to flare.

“Sorry, did you say Governor?”

“Yes.” Her tone is curt, not appreciating his questioning. She handed him her passport and her work identification, proving that she was the current Governor for Holloway Prison, offering no further comment on her job title. “If you don’t mind, you’ve already made me late to my meeting with your governor, so if you could please show me the way.”

Her tone was biting. She didn’t have time for his disbelief at her job, or to wait for him to pull himself together. She was certain that she could smell alcohol on him, which she would _definitely_ bring up to the Governor here. Shocked at her tone, the officer logged her identification into the system, and handed both her ID back to her along with a visitor badge that she clipped onto the waistband of her trousers, which was then mostly covered by her blazer.

“Follow me, please.” Not saying a word, she followed the officer, making mental notes on the building, the type of inmates here and how the officers behaved when their governor wasn’t around. She didn’t like what she saw. She knew that Governor Ferguson had only been in office for 6 months so far, and permanent change took time, so perhaps she had something in the works to whip her officers into shape. Her heels clicked as she walked alongside the officer, head held high as she surveyed her surroundings with the focus of a hawk hunting a meal. The officer didn’t try to start any conversation as they made their way up the stairs, thankfully. Soon enough he was knocking on the door and waiting for the Governor of Wentworth to allow entry.

“Come in!”

The officer opened the door with a flourish, which made both Governor’s roll their eyes. Jones shoved past him in order to get things started, sauntering into the office where Governor Ferguson had stood up and come around her desk to shake her hand and welcome her properly.

“Emma, its so good to see you again! You look well!” Joan shook her hand firmly, appreciating the strong grip in return from the British woman. 

“Joan, a pleasure to see you again, it just wasn’t the same at the last conference without you.” Joan smiled in return at her British counterpart, as they both turned to look at the officer who was still stood in the doorway, open-mouthed at the friendly exchange between the two women.

“Thank you, Mr Fletcher, I can take it from here.” Emma raised an eyebrow at the man, as he slouched out of the room and closed the door. She turned back to the other woman with an unimpressed look on her face, causing Joan to snort with laughter. 

“That is usually my response when dealing with him too.” Joan chuckled, as she moved towards the kitchen. “Do you still take coffee the same way?”

“As black as my soul, you mean?”

“Obviously.”

“Of course.” Emma placed her transparent clutch on the desk and settled into one of the chairs nearest to her. The last time the two had seen each other was about 9 months previously, when Joan had been invited to a conference on corrections in London, and the two had met up again as they always did at those confrences, sniggering together like schoolgirls about the utter stupidity of some of the speakers. It was a pity that she couldn’t come to the last one that took place 4 months ago, it would have helped relieve some of the boredom. They’d kept in touch over the usual emails, and What’sApp messages. They occasionally Facetimed on average around twice a month. They were both ridiculously busy for more than that, unfortunately. Thank god for modern conveniences, so messages didn’t take forever to send and was a good way of keeping in touch.

Joan returned with two cups of steaming coffee, handing one to Emma and then settling in the chair next to her. Emma found one of the coasters on the desk, and placed her mug there, (knowing that Joan appreciated her effort to not leave ring stains on her pristine white desk) then leaned forward to remove her blazer, Joan quickly following suit. Whilst she leaned forward to grasp at the handle of her mug, Joan followed the lines of her body which looked sinfully good in her tailored suit trousers and black tshirt. All muscle and soft curves. Thankfully, she knew that Emma was as gay as she was, something they’d quickly bonded over when they’d first met at a conference two years ago. They’d bonded after she’d watched Emma rip apart a homophobic key speaker and Joan had joined in, causing other women in the audience to also join them in humiliating the man. They had quickly made the man flee his podium during the onslaught of questions, angry points and disapproving glances and the organisers of the event had to apologise and state that the speaker’s opinions did not represent the British Corrections System. Following a lengthy apology to the offended parties, and a room upgrade each for the rest of their stay, fully paid for by the British Prison System, the two had gotten ridiculously drunk on whisky and vodka in Joan’s suite and had woken up curled up together (fully clothed. Both women secretly thought that if they were to sleep together, they wanted to remember it fully) on the large and comfortable sofa in the living area, with pounding heads, and plenty of cackling like hens. The strong foundations of a friendship had been set that evening.

Once both women were comfortable, the each sipped at the hot coffee.

“So, how long do I have you for?” Joan asked. Her friend had kept all the details quiet, wanting to surprise her in some form or other, she guessed.

“Well, officially in this capacity, for six weeks, but unofficially, I’m also here to see how I would like to take over as the head of the board and also become your compliance officer.” Emma was ridiculously nonchalant about the last part of her sentence. Joan nearly spat out her coffee. Both roles were not simple office jobs. If she took it, she would essentially be on the same management level as Joan, whilst ensuring that her officers and prisoners were behaving in the manner that they ought to be. It would be an advantage for Joan to have her at her side.

“You’re considering it?” She asked, looking at her straight in the face, knowing full well that Emma was bluntly honest, even when she really shouldn’t be. She also knew that Emma adored her job, the same as she.

“Yes, I am. Double the pay for half the work it seems. Also its here, which means a bit of excitement with emigrating. Plus the board gets to sack a useless rat of a man at the same time. Have you heard of Derek Channing?” Emma looked over at Joan, who was staring at her with a thoughtful look on her face. At her nod, Emma continued. “He’s a weasel. Did you know he’s been sending women out on their parole to a particular halfway house which operates as a brothel?”

She watched Joan’s gaze harden. “Unfortunately I do, its just a case of building evidence enough to get rid of him.”

“Well he’s threatening the women that if they don’t partake in the trade, they get sent back to Wentworth for breach of parole.” Joan’s mug slammed down on the desk, and she angrily rose, crouching down and yanking open the bottom desk drawer, and finding the folder she wanted. She sat back down and handed the file over to Emma, who skimmed it quickly, muttering swear words under her breath before she flipped it shut. She threw it on the desk with an angry glare.

“Either way, he needs to go.” Joan agreed with her and picked up her half finished coffee.

“So tell me, Miss Ferguson,” Emma’s voice took on a teasing lilt, “will I be allowed to get my hands dirty whilst I’m here?” It was hard to miss the British woman’s flirtatious undertone.

“Depends on what you mean by dirty.” Smirked the Governor, as she winked at her. “If there’s any confrontations, be my guest. It might do some good for my officers to see what actual prisoner management looks like. They’re currently labouring under the belief that my methods are unreasonably harsh.”

Emma laughed into her coffee. “Ah, they’re in for a hell of a shock then. The one that escorted me here? I’d say that he’s either a raging alcoholic, or he’s in recovery and fallen off the wagon. That cant end well, regardless of which he is.”

Joan nodded. “Yes, he’s been a thorn in my side since I started. Did you know he wanted the Governor position?”

Emma stared at her friend in disbelief. “Seriously? Him?! Sure he’s bulky which is good in a riot, I suppose, but I cant see him being bogged down with things like budget reports and civil complaints.” Joan laughed out loud, remembering that she had said something similar to Vera during one of the first after work drinks they’d had.

“The women here would have eaten him alive. They follow his orders because they have to, but if they had the choice they’d sooner spit on him. They like his backside, apparently.”

This caused both women to grimace in distaste. Both Emma and Joan made eye contact over the rims of their mugs and began to giggle, which then led to loud laughter and cackling. The two were nearly crying with laughter as a nervous knock sounded from the door, and Joan called “Come in!” whilst wiping her eyes, recognising Vera’s knock.

Her deputy opened the door, showing a little confusion at the laughter, then noticing the other woman in the office. Joan placed her mug on the desk and rose. “Vera, let me introduce you to a very good friend of mine, Governor Jones from the UK.” Emma rose to her feet and held out a hand whilst smiling kindly at the petite woman.

“Please call me Emma.” She shook her hand, making Vera smile at her in return.

“They you’ll have to call me Vera.” She answered. Emma appreciated the firm handshake, showing that the woman might be a bit timid, but she had some strength about her.

“I wish this was only a social call,” Vera frowned. “But we have an issue.”

Both Joan and Emma turned to her, looking serious.

“We’ve found a positive pregnancy test, inside the prison. If it was in the part were the visitors are, I wouldn’t be so concerned, but this was near H2.”

Vera watched as both Governor’s faces became angry and then the two women looked at each other.

“Governor Ferguson, do you have a spare set of restraints, a radio and a swipe card so that I can get around the building?” Joan looked at her counterpart and moved to the cupboard nearest her desk. She bent down, and removed the items she’d asked for, as Vera watched the auburn haired woman clip them onto her belt. As both women put their blazers back on, the deputy was in awe as both women exuded confidence with their roles.

“Now before we go off to storm the cells, how do we do this?” Emma looked between Joan and Vera.

It was Vera who spoke up, speaking with a confident tone that surprised Joan. “They can defer to you the same way they would Governor Ferguson. You’re a Governor as well and you will be treated as such. I’ll let them know.”

Emma smiled in relief at the deputy, and nodded to her in gratitude.

Straightening her blazer, she looked at both women. “Let’s do this.”


	2. Proving a Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saga to find the pregnant inmate continues, and Vera finds out something interesting about both Governors. 
> 
> The inmates begin to realise that they are in way over their heads where Governor Jones is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, AND VIOLENCE TOWARD A PREGNANT INMATE IN PARTICULAR.   
> NOT IN DETAIL BUT THOUGHT I'D PUT IT OUT THERE TO LET YOU ALL KNOW.

The trio of women stood in the medical bay, overlooking the procedures of collecting the prisoners urine samples. Most of the inmates had stared at the unfamiliar woman, until she’d turned to return their look, green eyes staring at them in the same way they had at her in the first place. Although not understanding why the whole prison had to go through a urine test, the women complied, and only a few looked slightly panicked at the idea of needing to give a sample. Emma put this down to the availability of drugs, which Joan knew was coming into the prison somehow, she just hadn’t been able to sniff out who yet. One in particular, a curly haired woman with a darker skintone, seemed particularly twitchy as she took an empty pot and went into the cubicle to do her business.

Emma placed on hand on her hip, and subtly motioned towards Joan with her hand. The Governor, ever attentive, simply moved over to her as if they were going to discuss the weather. Vera followed, but kept one eye on the line of inmates too.

“Keep an eye on the one that’s just gone in.” Emma’s voice was low, as she bent her head towards Joan, who looked at the doorway with increased interest. “She seems to be very nervous. She doesn’t fit the stereotype of a drug addict either.”

“Anderson?” Vera murmured.

Emma nodded subtly. “Has anything happened that means any men could have gotten near one of them? I don’t want to jump to conclusions that it was a male officer. Any programs shared with any of the nearby male prisons?”

“The garden.” Both Joan and Vera spoke at the same time, and shared a glance before returning their attention to the British redhead.

“Later, I’d suggest we put the rush on those that are in that program. I have a hunch that if anyone is pregnant, it might be one of them.” Emma suggested, waiting for Joan’s answering nod before moving away, slowly walking her way down the line, one hand in her trouser pocket as her heels clicked on the tiles, the other grasping the spare radio Joan had given her earlier. Her stance is supposed to look relaxed and casual, but Joan knows better. The more relaxed Emma looks to the inmates, the quicker she can nip anything in the bud if it starts with them being caught off-guard.

Doyle was stood behind Boomer, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, her eyes raking up the figure of the visiting Governor. Her suit trousers clung in all the right places after all, as did the blazer and Franky had no doubt that the black tshirt she wore would highlight a pert bust and a curvy waist. She watched the redhead as she surveyed the line of inmates, eyes looking for any details that might offer any insight into the current situation. The women knew that she would be visiting for six weeks in total, but they didn’t know much about her other than her name, and that she was cut from the same cloth as Joan Ferguson in her style of governing. However, no incidents had occurred yet to warrant any other response from her except caution. That would soon change if any of the women got hold of this drug that Franky was planning on bringing in. Governor Jones’s stare stopped on Franky for a second, raising an eyebrow at her posture. Unconsciously, Franky straightened and stood properly. She made a point of gazing up and down the woman’s body.

Emma was not impressed.

“Eyes to yourself, inmate.” The order was crisp, and cold.

“Well now, only trying to be friendly.” Franky retorted, biting her lip and smirking. That move had caused Erica Davidson to stutter and go bright red whenever she dealt with Franky but not Governor Jones.

“You’re inside a prison, friendly isn’t exactly a word that exists here. Knock it off, eyes front and get on with your sample.” There was no emotion behind her tone, she was simply ordering an inmate to do as she was told. Something in her voice made Franky feel like she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she didn’t listen. Trying to stay on the good side of the upper management so that she could stay in the gardening program, she nodded, and faced front, muttering.

Governor Jones continued her slow prowl down the line of inmates, nearly every woman going quiet as she passed. Except Skye. _The fucking dumbass_ , thought Franky.

“Who are you to order us about, hey!? You aint nothing here! S’not like we got to listen to you, huh?!” Skye had jumped out of her place in the line, vibrating with nervous energy as she swung for the British woman. Franky swore under her breath, Skye was high as kite on smack. She must have found the last of Big Tanya’s stash that she’d hidden before being moved to protection.

Joan and Vera began to storm down the line to bring order however within a second of Skye’s fist coming towards Emma’s face, the redhead had slammed the scrawny woman to the floor, front first and knocking the wind out of her. She’d restrained her and then held the handcuffs up, pulling Skye’s arms straight behind her, until the woman started to whine that it was hurting. From where she was kneeling, Governor Edwards leaned forward, making sure the grip on the blonde’s wrists was firm, as she came closer to her face.

“You had no compunction about trying to hurt me, young lady, so I will treat you how you intended to treat me.” Her voice is even, but loud enough that every woman in the line heard and understood the hidden threat. “Up.”

She yanked Sky to her feet, and when the woman tried to straighten up, Jones bent her in half again at the waist, using the back of her neck as a push point. She held up her wrists again, maintaining the position of her arms as being straight up behind her. Skye complained loudly.

“Walk. Now.” With military precision, Emma began to walk down the hallway, leading the inmate with her hands straight up behind her, bent in half to the section where she knew the solitary cells were located. Despite Skye’s best efforts to put up a fight, she had to keep her feet moving or else she somehow knew that she’d be dragged in this position all the way to the slot, either on her knees or by walking. The women in line watched her go, shocked at the treatment that Skye had gotten. It was completely foreign to them.

Joan and Vera, as well as Linda Miles who was stood towards the end of the line, thought it was a particularly effective way of controlling an out of control inmate. Joan knew the exact moves Emma had used, however, the protocol in Wentworth was to only use minimal force if necessary. She hated that part, due to the fact that it endangered more officers than necessary. Whilst Joan had been lobbying the board to change it, Channing had gotten in her way every fucking time. Current policy discouraged fighting back to aggressive inmates, leading to a disciplinary action if officers were found to have responded in any way that might be construed as defending themselves. Apparently, the pepper spray and handcuffs were supposed to be enough. Obviously, Emma’s prison was run differently.

Within ten minutes, Governor Jones returned to the line, and watched over the rest of the women as they each provided their samples. Her point had been made. The British counterpart to Governor Ferguson was not afraid of stopping an incident before it became too much. In little under two hours, all the women had been returned to their cells, and the three women of the upper management team made their way back up to Joan’s office. With the samples taken from those who were involved in the garden project being rushed through first, Joan sat back in her chair, as the two women opposite her did the same.

“I reckon that you might find your little mother to be in the garden group.” Emma said, noting the Governor’s minute flinch as the mention of a ‘mother to be’, she shot an apologetic glance at her, knowing her touchy history of women with babies in prisons. Joan acknowledged the silent apology with a nod. Emma was well aware of her past concerning Jianna, and had in return, offered her own tale which was very similar during their stay at the conference.

“The problem we’ll have is after we find out who it is.” Emma said, looking between the Governor and her deputy. Joan nodded again, understanding where she was coming from.

Vera, on the other hand, was confused. “Why, do you think whoever it is would try and get rid of the baby themselves?”

Emma shook her head. “No, and before you suggest it, it wouldn’t be the officers either. Its very possible that one of the other inmates may get jealous and find a way to either shove her down the stairs, or find a reason to slam something into her stomach.” She said this with little to no emotion, however, she’d seen it happen at least twice previously in all the prisons she’d worked in. Vera looked appalled at the idea.

Joan and Emma shared a glance. Vera was a lovely person, however she was sometimes very naïve for the world of prisons.

“Why on earth would anyone be jealous?!”

“It might not even be that they’re jealous that she’s knocked up. First time I saw it happen, I was still an officer, and the woman responsible had said that she was jealous that the victim had managed to get some dick instead of her. She then threw her down the stairs.” Vera’s mouth fell open in horror. “That’s not even the worst of it. She dragged her back up the stairs to throw her down them again, to make sure the job was done right.”

Vera held her hand up to her open mouth, horrified.

“I mean, personally, I don’t think a man’s penis is worth four extra years added onto a seven year sentence, but there you go. Difference in perspectives.” Joan snorted at this, causing Emma to grin in return. Vera looked confused for a second, and then it dawned on her.

“Oh, you’re…erm …”

“Gay? Lesbian? Lover of Women? A friend of Dorothy?” Emma grinned at the deputy, who was struggling to keep her laughter quiet at the ridiculously flamboyant gestures the redhead was making. “Choose whichever moniker you like, all are applicable.”

“I’ll be honest, I have wondered about it.” Vera said, looking at her curiously. Emma met her gaze, recognising a woman questioning her sexuality when it was in front of her.

“Go ahead, ask away, we have time whilst we’re waiting for these results.”

“Can I ask, when did you come out?” The deputy was hesitant. Emma shared a look with Joan. It was up to the older woman if she divulged her own sexual preference to the deputy, Emma certainly wasn’t going to let it slip without permission.

“I was twenty four.” Emma answered honestly.

“Twenty five.” The Governor’s voice rang clearly throughout the office, her chin resting in her hand. Vera looked at the black haired woman in shock. “My father beat me black and blue when I shouted it at him during an argument.” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for Vera to stop gaping like a fish.

“I was lucky. My parents split up when I was young, my mother never cared as long as I was happy, but dad never quite got over it, although he never laid a hand on me. I think he knew my mother would gut him like a fish with a corkscrew had he tried. We’ve not spoken in nearly fifteen years. I spoke to my mum this morning. Last I heard my dad was a very lonely and bitter old man.”

“Thankfully, my father only lived a year or so afterwards, although he was as bruised and sore as I was after that fight. I’m sure I broke a few fingers, as well as ribs.” She shrugged as Vera found her voice.

“That’s terrible!”

“Vera, sweetie you’ll need to be specific. Is us being lesbians terrible or how our fathers reacted?” Emma smirked at her, causing her to blush. Emma assumed it was the parental reaction that was the issue here.

“Your fathers, of course! I couldn’t care less what you like in the bedroom, it doesn’t change who you are as people.” Vera couldn’t understand how parents could insist that they would adore their children no matter what whilst pregnant but then be willing to throw out that same child if they didn’t adhere to their beliefs. Then she thought of her own mother, still clinging to this world by her fingertips. She wondered if her mother would approve of her if she came out. Whilst Vera wasn’t experienced in that area, she wasn’t completely thick. She understood that she had an attraction to women, she just didn’t know how to verbalise it to herself. After the humiliating experience with Fletch, she never wanted to be near a man sexually again. Then it dawned on her, she’d never wanted him sexually in the first place. When she thought of Fletch, nothing happened to her. There was no rush of desire for him or anything like that. What was worse, she wasn’t surprised by the lack of reaction.

As Vera sat there, contemplating her own sexuality, Joan and Emma shared a look. The look on Vera’s face was one they recognised, they’d seen it often enough when girls would go to a gay bar and have an epiphany. Joan wondered how Rita Bennett would factor into Vera’s realisation. The woman was at death’s door, and when she’d been returned home from the hospital earlier in the year, it was expected that she only had weeks left to live, if that. Well the old bat was still kicking six months down the line, and Joan could see that it was beginning to wear on her deputy to the point of permanent damage. She might ask Emma for any advice on how to broach the subject of a hospice home for the woman, it was doing Vera no favours to have to live with the poison the woman spewed.

The three sat there in silence, waiting for Vera to get out of her own head. Eventually Joan decided enough was enough.

“Vera.” Her deputy blinked at her. “Don’t overthink it. It isn’t a big deal one way or the other, but maybe it would do you some good to do some research?”

“Its true, not everyone is the same. Some women know in their bones from the age where they can verbalise it, others don’t realise it because its outside of the heteronormative spiel women are usually given.” Emma reached over to pat Vera’s hand in reassurance. “Either way, we’re both here if you need us.” The deputy returned the smile, although her shoulders had lost the tense line, and were now much more relaxed. Joan smiled reassuringly.

The shrill call of the phone cut through the office. Joan answered it on speakerphone with the push of a button.

“We have a problem.”

The three women looked at each other. 

They waited.

“The pregnancy tests were all negative.” Emma scoffed in the background. She’d seen this entire situation enough times. “BUT! We got an odd result for Doreen Anderson. Her urine tested positive for drugs usually found in transgender individuals or those transitioning. Maxine Conway is the only inmate I have registered to be receiving those particular drugs.”

Joan ended the call with the usual ‘thank you’s’ and ‘goodbyes’ and then looked at the other two women.

Emma leaned back, smirking in satisfaction. “Gotcha.”

“We need to get Anderson to give us a fresh sample.” Vera leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “I never would have thought her the type to do something like this.”

Joan looked at her. “She’s in prison, remember. She’s here for a reason. If you listened to these women they’re all here because they took a wrong turn going to church.” Joan’s sardonic comment made the two women giggle.

“Somebody’s been watching Orange is the New Black.” Vera joked.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

Emma found two sets of eyes focused on her. “Wait until later in the evening, when they’re getting ready for bed and winding down. We’ll likely catch them off guard that way.”

The Governor and her deputy consider it. Then they nod at the same time.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for the afternoon to roll into the evening, and once they’d locked up the units, paperwork was the only thing keeping them busy.

At 10pm, they decided to get on with it, and fetch Anderson.

Stalking through empty corridors, the sound of heels echoed as the three made their way to H2, sliding the well oiled gate open and marching into the unit.

Birdsworth is asleep on one of the chairs in the common area, a half knitted blanket over her lap and a crotchet hook still in her hand.

Emma decides that rather than waking the entire unit, it would be better to find Anderson’s cell immediately. So, she walks over to the inmate in the chair, and shakes her awake.

“Birdsworth. Where’s Anderson’s cell?” Emma doesn’t beat about the bush.

Blearily, the woman squints at her, then points a finger to the furthest cell on the left.

Emma nods in thanks.

Wasting no time, they yank open the door to cell, and the woman shoots up in her bed, clutching the covers to her.

“Doreen.” Vera says. “Come on.”

Shaking her head nervously, the woman is hesitant to leave her unit and not know why.

So Joan removes any doubt. “Want to explain why your urine tested positive for drugs normally used in transitioning, Doreen?” She tilts her head, an unamused look on her face.

The woman stutters and still doesn’t move from her bed. Joan and Vera share a look and take a step forward.

But Emma has a better idea. She’d suggested going themselves and not taking any other officer’s for backup, in an effort to maintain calm and not rile up the other women on the unit. So all that was needed was a little manipulation.

“Doreen, is it?” She steps from behind Joan, and the inmate recognises her hair immediately. She’s staring, open mouthed, and has stopped the stuttering. “I’m going to give you to two options. We already suspect that you have a little secret that you’re trying to keep, hence the tainted pisspot from earlier. So, you come with us to give us a real sample that we can test, or we’ll slam you into solitary for so long that you’ll be showing around your middle and have proven it by the time you get out of there. Either way, we’ll prove what we need.”

As she’d done earlier, Governor Jones has proven again that she’s not willing to be led around by the nose. And Doreen really doesn’t want to be in the slot any longer than she’s going to be already. Plus, with Governor Ferguson and her Deputy, stood in the doorway with their arms crossed and looking foreboding, Doreen didn’t want to take them on.

Hesitantly, she nods and shoves the covers back, stepping into slippers, and follows the redheaded Governor out to other two.

She is led out of the unit with little fanfare or noise, but the women of the unit have woken anyway, and are clustered around the table in the common area with open mouths.

Joan shoots them a look with a raised eyebrow and saunters out of the unit, sliding the gate shut and locking it.

None of the women in the unit sleep well, all of them trying to think of what the three women could have possible said to Doreen to make her go with them quietly and without complaint. Especially when she’d said previously that she would fight tooth and nail against them if the administration found out about the pregnancy.

Franky, already worried about keeping her dealing through the garden project a secret, hated not knowing how the added Governor would react. They could guess how Ferguson and Miss Bennett would act, but they had no idea about Jones, unless she body-slammed them to the ground and slapped restraints around their wrists.

Franky hated the not knowing the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments make writers do little happy dances! <3 
> 
> Always appreciate you lovely people!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, i appreciate every single one of you! 
> 
> Show me some love down in the kudos and comments if you are so inclined <3 they really do help boost writing morale! <3


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